all nearness pauses, while a star can grow
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: Fred has a soulmate, and George doesn't. At least, not as far as he knows. In the end, it doesn't matter - Angelina always was good at claiming the hearts of Weasley men.


Title from ee cummings' poem of the same name. Written for the Romance Awareness Challenge (Day 5: People can't see colour until they meet their soulmate, (setting) Hogsmeade) and the Twins Weekend (Fred and George Weasley) on the Hogwarts forum.

 _Word count:_ 1812

 **all nearness pauses, while a star can grow**

"What are colors like, d'you think?" It wasn't the first time one of them asked this question, and it wouldn't be the last. Obviously, growing up knowing your parents were soulmates and saw the world in colors instead of the shades of grey that painted their children's sight meant that this was a question that came back more often than not.

Asking their parents didn't really help either—there were only so many times Arthur or Molly could reply with things such as 'it's like the sun rising for the first time' or 'like nothing you can describe' before the whole thing became frustrating.

On their bed, Fred shifted until he was facing George, his eyes bleary with sleep. He stifled a yawn into his blankets. "I don't know," he said. "I don't really think about it. I mean, it's not like it's gonna happen soon, anyway."

That was true. Even Bill, their oldest brother, hadn't found his soulmate yet, and while their parents had met at eleven, George knew they were the rare ones because of it.

"I don't know," George echoed, shrugging. "I guess I just do."

Fred frowned. This was the problem with having a twin—someone who knew you just as well as they knew themselves—George reflected fondly: hiding things was incredibly difficult.

"We'll be fine, you know. No matter what. No soulmate person is gonna come between us," Fred swore.

George laughed, a loud barking noise he immediately buried behind his hands.

They remained silent for a long moment. Fred's eyes were wide open and full of the same panic that was currently making George's heart race inside is chest, but when the Burrow stayed quiet, they slowly exhaled in relief.

"That was close," George whispered. He couldn't quite see Fred nod—in the darkness, only his eyes were truly visible, and then again only because what little light filtered in through the cracks in the window frame made them shine a little—but he could hear the rustling noise of his blankets.

(their parents had tried to make them sleep in different beds, but after the third time one of them had nearly brained himself trying to push the beds together, they had given up and fused the two single beds into a larger one)

"So, you wanna tell me what's really bothering you?" Fred asked.

"No," George lied, squirming. He could tell his brother wasn't impressed by the attempt. "Fine," he finally relented, rolling his eyes to hide his relief. "I guess I am – was – a little worried. It's fine."

Fred hummed softly in reply. "Sure it is…"

Despite himself, George could feel his lips twitching up into a smile. He shoved at his brother lightly, hitting him somewhere in the arm. "It's just… I don't get how anyone could be more important than the family we already have."

He felt almost guilty for saying it: there was someone, somewhere, who was supposed to complete him perfectly, but all George could thing was that Fred was the only other half he could ever need.

"It's not about being _more_ important, I think," Fred replied after a moment of silence. "Maybe it's just adding someone else to the family? Finding someone who fits in with us?"

George smiled. "Mmh, maybe. When did you get so wise anyway?"

"Tsk, I've always been wise. It's part of my attributes as the better, more handsome twin."

"Obviously," George drawled.

" _Obviously_ , yes. Now can we please get back to sleep? Because you know if Mum thinks we're tired tomorrow she'll make us take a nap and then we won't be able to prank Percy like we planned."

"Yeah, yeah," George replied. "Alright." He closed his eyes and tried to slow down his breathing. Still, as tired as he knew he felt, sleep continued to elude him.

"Hey, Fred?" he whispered, keeping his eyes closed.

"Mmh?"

There were a million things George could have said—a million conversations he could have started—but instead all he managed to say was, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, _sleep_ or I will smother you with my pillow."

 **.x.**

In the end, that conversation was nothing really important; just a night among so many others just like it.

Still, for some reason it stays with George, lingering at the back of his mind whenever the topic of soulmates come up.

In the end, he and Fred are the first of their siblings to meet their soulmate. Or rather, soulmate.

 _(odd, isn't it, how these things work sometimes?)_

Fred sees her first, or maybe Angelina sees Fred first. They're getting off the train at Hogsmeade station, bodies filled with nervous excitement at the thought of finally— _finally_ —being able to start learning real magic, or being moments away from their Sorting, when it happens.

George is talking about something or another—the pranks they'll be able to do now that they won't be limited by their mother's presence—when Fred trips on his feet, breath coming out in a gasp.

"Oh," he says, and George watches with confusion as wonder dawns on his face, eyes flickering to their surroundings quickly as though he's never seen them before.

A few steps ahead of them, a dark-skinned girl their age stands frozen in much the same way, eyes riveted to Fred, and _oh_ , George gets it now.

"And what's this?" a voice booms suddenly as Hagrid, the Gameskeeper who's supposed to lead them to the school, appears. The lantern he's carrying casts odd lights on their surroundings. To George's grey vision, it looks as though the shadows have come alive. He can't imagine what it looks like to Fred.

"That's yellow," Fred breathes, his hand clenched painfully tight on George's arm. He seems torn between keeping his eyes on the girl who's proven to be his soulmate and taking in everything around them. He voices the names of the colors George assumes he's spotting in a whisper as he looks, practically vibrating in excitement at George's side.

The giant of a man's face suddenly softens and breaks into a wide, cheerful smile. "Oh, fantastic!" he laughs. "There are some every year," he adds, clapping Fred on the back. Fred's knees buckle, and George is sure that had it not been for him, his brother would have fallen. "Congratulations!" the man continues before gesturing at them to keep moving.

The girl joins them on their boat after that, and when their eyes cross nothing happens. There are no colors blooming in his sight for him, no great revelation. His world remains grey and colorless.

Something twinges inside George's chest, pulling at his heartstrings, and it takes him a moment to recognize disappointment. He'd thought…

Well, what he had thought doesn't really matters. His twin's found his soulmate—that has to be ground for a lifetime of teasing; and the best part is that so far, Fred has nothing to tease him back with.

Fred will probably be merciless when their situation gets reversed, but then again, George would expect nothing else from his brother.

 **.x.**

"I think I'm going to propose to Angelina," Fred tells him one day. They're on the run now, hiding with what's left of the Order and running the Resistance's radio station in between fights, and yet, right now, having this conversation, it feels like they're back at Hogwarts when Fred was wondering whether or not Angelina liked- _liked_ him.

"Well, finally!" George replies, laughing.

"What do you mean, _finally_?" Fred asks, frowning.

"Only that Mum's been hinting at it since you sent home that first letter when you got your colors," George smirks.

"Ugh, don't remind me about that," Fred groans. "I had managed to forget about it."

"Too bad! I'm going to tell everyone about this at your _wedding,_ Forge, which I'm fairly sure Mum's been planning since you were eleven."

Fred groans again, cheeks a flaming red. It's not often that either of them gets embarrassed by something, but somehow this—referring to Fred's obvious love for Angelina—works every time.

George shrugs, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Come on, it's not my fault it took you so long to get it."

"She had Dad give me pointers on how to _please_ a woman," Fred replies, horrified. "Dad, George, _Dad_! I thought I was going to die!"

George bursts into laughter. "Oh yes, I remember that! You did look awfully red that day."

"Just you wait," Fred hisses threateningly. "You'll see when it's your turn, _you'll see_."

"Maybe, yeah," George sighs.

"Oh come on," Fred says, rolling his eyes playfully. "Who could say no to that handsome face?"

"It is rather handsome, isn't it?"

The truth is, George isn't really interested in romance. He's had a few adventures, of course—who hadn't?—but nothing really important, and certainly nothing as meaningful as what Fred seems to share with Angelina, or what Bill has with his new wife.

He's known passion, and he's had fun, but the _spark_ has always been missing. Maybe it's because he's never met his soulmate, or maybe it's something else, but in the end, all that matters is that he's never been in love.

"You'll find someone too, you know," Fred says, somewhat uncharacteristically open.

George laughs. "Yeah, maybe."

 **.x.**

George remembers a day, when they were maybe six or seven, where he and Fred sneaked into their parents' room to check out their books. They had been hoping to find something about magic, a spell book maybe, but instead they stumbled into their mother's romance novels.

George had read half of one of them on that day, and many more since then, but a sentence from that first book had stuck with him ever since: _we don't choose who we fall in love with—that's why it's called falling_.

It had resonated inside him, somehow, and he had thought he understood what it meant.

But now, as he and Angelina grow closer and closer, like comets stuck in an unavoidable collision course, he realizes that he never truly had.

It's weird really, how not weird it all feels. George keeps catching himself staring at Angelina, watching the way the light seems to make her skin shine. She's beautiful. He knows he never used to think that before.

 _(before Fred… well, before)_

The more time they spend together, the easier it becomes to see why his brother loved her—why the universe seemed to think they'd be perfect together—and the easier it is for him to fall in love with her.

He still doesn't get his colors—she's not his soulmate, and she never will be—and Angelina lost hers the instant Fred's heart stopped beating, but they build something precious anyway.

And one day, maybe, who knows, they'll even talk about the ghost that lingers in between them.


End file.
